Turkeys of Our Lives
by BecauseShewasBORED
Summary: The kids are making thanksgiving art projects and as usual its not going to go as planned. Happy Thaknsgiving people!


**_A/N Ah, same bad time, same bat place. So, this is my thanksgiving gift to fanfiction. Be warned, I'm stuffed to the eyeballs with turkey and I've had to pee for like an hour, so this might be reall shitty. Whatever, it was fun to write, so its all good._**

**_I feel I need to elaborate on this story, because its really... weird. Yes, I know everything I write is weird, but this is the first time my Phil muse has had free reign and I'm not sure about the concept. See, the 'kids' in this story are in preschool. I tried to get him to go for high school, but the story wouldn't flow. Oh and they're not exactly 'kids'- AND they're definitely not in the world we know. Think of this as like a boarding school in a parallel universe._**

**_Warnings; Same old shit. OOC-ness, swearing, implied pedophilia, spanglish that probably wrong, mean jokes about Batista, Swagger, and Golddust, a mean joke about Alby (Del Rio), lots of really bizarre slash like things. Oh, and the fact that they're kids. _**

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><p>This was stupid.<p>

Really, really, really stupid.

Like, brain-dead retarded stu-

"Philip Brooks, you stop making those un-thanksgiving like faces this instant!" hissed the assistant teacher, Mr. Bautista, flexing his roided up muscles that bulged grotesquely around his paint splattered apron. He stoped at one of the tables and deposited paper and crayons (which Mizani promptly picked up and began eating).

Did I mention this was stupid?

"So!" said Mr. Golddust, an obsenely happy smile on his face, "Since tomorrow is Thanksgiving, I thought we could do a special art project today. I want you to each draw a turkey that you think best represents the person sitting accross from you."

Ug. Did I also mention how _bad_ of an idea this is?

Hager -the _buffoon_- raised his hand and opened his damn mouth, his tongue lolling out of his mouth like the fool he was. Mr. Golddust just smiled though -he loves it when we ask questions.

"Yes Jacob dear?"

"What if we don't know how to make a 'thurkey?" he lisped, a big string of saliva streaming from his lips, elicting a cry of horror from Ricardo, who was sitting beside him. Morrison sighed heavily, pulling a hankerchief from his back pocket and handing it to Hager.

The big lumox took the bright red silk hankerchief -which I noticed was the one _I_ had given to Mor- with a deep blush to match the color of the cloth in his hand. Before I could comment, big bright and gold decided to stop staring at Mor's ass long enough to answer Hager's question.

"Remember last week when Cena showed Phil how to make hand print turkeys?"

I grimmaced. Just because Cena was in the advanced class, the asshole though he was _sooo _freaking great.

Irritating, like a bunch of other shit in my life.

Hager nodded emphatically though I noticed he was still looking at Mor out of the corner of his eye, making my eyes narrow. Again, before I could say anything, Goldie clapped his hands cheerily and told us to get to work.

"Mr. Gold Dust," said Mor, voice smooth and confident as he flipped his sholder length hair out of his face, "I don't have anyone sitting across from me."

"Neither do I," I added in, not because I really wanted anyone else at my empty table, but just to make Mor look at me. It worked, he glanced back, a frown gracing his fine features. I lifted my chin, daring him to make a comment about my antisocial personality.

Instead, he pushed out of his chair, grabbing his bag. To my surprise -and deep pleasure- he began moving toward me, a determined look in his eyes.

I was just basking in the idea that Morrison wanted to sit next to me when Goldie put a hand on his back, pushing him back toward his chair -and away from the chair across from me, where he belonged.

_Damn it._ Always so close to paradise, but its always just out of reach.

"No no Johnathan, I'll sit across from you. You don't need to move your self all the way to the back of the room," I heard the distain in his voice and saw the look he shot me as he lead a reluctant Morrison back to his seat. Angry at our asshole teacher, I spoke up, just to be a pain in the ass.

"What about me? I still don't have anyone to draw the stupid picture of," I paused an idea comming to mind, "Can I use you as my subject too Goldie? Your table is the closest."

That wasn't true. I was sitting at one of the two back tables with my back to Ricardo and Korklan, who were facing Hager and Danielson at their table. Across the isle from me was the other empty table, which Mor had his back too, in one of the isle seats.

I should have sucked it up and sat with him. Fuck.

Goldie seemed ecstatic that I was participating for once, and -beaming like an idiot- happily let me draw my 'turkey interpretation' of him.

I know. What a dumbass, right?

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><p>"And this is his orange head band, and heres his purple shirt and heres his green parka and and and-"<p>

Even Goldie was getting tired of Cardona's unnecessarily long explanation of his rather misshapen turkey, "Mattie, my dear, thats quite enough thank you. Thats a beautiful interperitation of Nicholas."

It wasn't and Goldies praise had Roid Rage snorting into what I suspected was liquored up tea. Goldie elbowed him, rumpling Bautista's already straining apron and making him slop tea down his front. Egnoring his assistant's cursing, Goldie took Cardona's blobby turkey and set it on his desk as he spoke.

"Joseph dear, why don't you go next?"

The other Matt in the class -really, you would think that adults would plan these things better- was practicly bouncing in his seat, while Danielson watched him with amusement.

"Th-this is Bryan Danielson, the Turkey," Korklan giggled at his own words, the sobered and continued, "See, I drew a dorky hair cut and comic books as its wings-"

I tuned out, rolling my eyes. Korklan's drawing wasn't as bad as Cardona's, but I was getting tired of this shit really fast and-

"Phillip?" I winced at the use of my real name and turned to stared at Goldie with uninterested eyes. He was up at his desk, arms crossed, looking at me expectantly.

"Yeah?" I said, flicking my eyes down nervously at the second peice of paper underneath my drawing.

Goldie gestured to my drawing, "Would you like to show the class what you drew?"

Well, that was a no brainer, "No." I said, without hesitation.

Goldie sighed, rubbng his temples, "I swear Philly, I love you and all but you are a true test of my patients. You're stubborn and rude. You're mean to everyone in class exept Johnathan, you hardly ever participate in class activities and you question _everythin_ I do or say. You-"

I picked up my paper, subtly flipping the other over to hide the image, "Alright alright, calm the hell down man. You don't have to fip your shit over something so trivial."

Goldie didn't get a chance to retort because I turned the paper to the class and added another reason to the list of why I was a 'true test' of Goldies patients.

My turkey was your standard hand print turkey, but it was bright pink and lined with gold. It had a frilly umbrella in its beak, a big purple scarf around its neck and a speech buble with the words 'my sweatiest students' in it. And no, thats not a typo.

Did I mention that the 'feathers' were dicks?

There was a deep, unfriendly silence until a soft, tinkling laugh broke out. Feeling my heart warm -and cursing myself for being such a damn girl- I resisted the urge to grin like a retard as I locked eyes with Mor, who had a hand hovering in front of his mouth, eyes crinkling as laughter poured from him.

_Goddamnit._ I'm such a fuckin' _sap._

Roid Rage was laughing now too. Goldie opened his mouth, shooting Mor a look. But Mor was still focused on me, moving his hand and showing me his interperitaion of Mr. Goldust.

I busted out laughing. Being one of those naturally beautiful people, Morrison was also one of those people that was good at everything, drawing included. However, on his paper, smeared in crayon, was a big pink blob, adorned with various pieces of womens clothing. Big cartoony eyes rested in the cernter of the blob and a beak was open, a speech bubble proclaiming 'I is happyyyyyyyy' spilling out.

Mr. Gold Dust seemed at a loss for words as he looked between our drawings, a look of budding fury growing on his face. Glancing at the clock, I would have groaned at the time -it was still 2 hours until lunch- but the chair next to me scraping against the floor made my head shoot up. My eyes widened as Morrison sat don next to me, the way his hair fanned out to hide his slightly pink face making my heart speed up.

Roid Rage was handing Goldie his valium and a glass of water as Mor caught sight of the other, more detailed picture I'd drawn. He looked at me, questioning. Feighning indifference, I laced my fingers behind my head and leaned back in my chair, balancing on the back legs.

I kept a nervous eye on him, my cool act probably failing misserably as he flipped the picture over. His eyes widened and he ran his graceful fingers over the carefully crayoned image, breathing out softly.

Unease -which is a feeling I'm NOT used to- welled in me as he remained silent. Finally, he reached into his bag and carefully withdrew a peice of paper. He handed it to me wordlessly, but watched me, not bothering to hide his anxiety.

I mimicked his earlier action before I realized what I was doing, running my fingers over the gentle crayon strokes of his breath taking art. A grin came to my face, but it wasn't a laughing kind, or even a sarcastic one. I tucked his drawing beneath the one of Goldie and turned to him, still smiling softly.

The anxiety melted from his face and he relaxed, his gaceful lips curling into a smile of his own, that made me want to reach out and touch him. I didn't -no need to push my luck- instead leaning back in my chair again, watching him as he streached his arms out on the desk and arched his back like a cat. Calm silence descended between us as Goldie began talking about the Thanksgiving feast tomarrow, apparently having recoevered from his panic attack earlier.

Mor curled a strand of his feather like hair behind his ear and shot me a gentle smile, rolling his eyes as Roid Rage yelled at us to pay attension. I retuned the smile, giving into the obsenely happy feelings coursing through me. Just today, I told myself. Just today.

God, I'm _such _a liar. And a sappy _girl._

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><p>Deleted scene;<p>

"Cody, what is your interpretation of Alberto?" asked Mr. Golddust, adding the finishing touches to his own drawing.

Cody looked up, his dark eyes hooded and uninterested. Lazily, he picked his paper up and turned it to the class, making Mr. Golddust raise an eyebrow.

Alberto glared at Cody with an unreasonable amount of hatered, "What the hell is that? Why is you portrait of me blank simplon?"

Cody turned his attension to the snooty hispanic boy, expression blank, "Because my brother said to draw what best represents the person sitting across from us," he shook the paper a bit, "This represents you to a T."

Alberto shot out of his chair, his spanglish morphing into full blown angry spanish, his face turning an ugly shade of red. The rest of the class broke out into laughter as Ricardo got up and tried to calm his master down.

Cody egnored them all, setting the drawing down and going back to staring out the window, leaving the room in favor of the dreams he prefered to live in.

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><p><em><strong>AN In the imortal words of Kyle Broflovski, HOLY SHIT DUDE! I think I just wrote fluff... wow. I usually can't write fluff about Phil and Mor for shit. I'm kinda proud of myself now ^^**_


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